


No Mask for a Spectre

by Michevalier



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: And I wanted some fluff with them, Cause I still feel bad for Spectre, Established Relationship, Even though he was a villain, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I Ship It, Light Angst, M/M, Revspec, yes i do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-12 17:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13552578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michevalier/pseuds/Michevalier
Summary: Always remembering how unsightly his face was Spectre thought that he needed a mask to wear.Revolver though had the opposite opinion on this.





	No Mask for a Spectre

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place pre-canon.
> 
> Also, I simply wanted to write something about this ship >////<

"There. It should help to take down your fever. Now rest."

A young woman tucked him in his blanket and left the room, having closed the door behind herself. Her distant steps were still clearly heard slapping against the wooden floor of the corridor when the boy slowly opened his eyes in this late evening silence. He felt dizzy, the heat was literally pulsating inside his head, turning his cheeks bright red. His throat was awfully dry and now that the medicine was taken it was even worse with all this bitterness in his mouth.

Groaning, the boy sat up in his bed and sighed heavily. There was no one around in this isolated room where he was living all alone, estranged from other kids in this orphanage.

The aftertaste of the medicine was so nasty that the kid couldn't bear it any longer, so he got up from bed and headed downstairs, towards the kitchen to get himself a glass of water that was originally supposed to be left for him by the nursemaid.

The boy was trying to move quietly, his tiny footsteps were hardly heard in the long dark corridor. Occasionally, shivers would strike him as he wrapped his arms around himself, his sickness was in its very zenith. Soon, the darkness was barely disrupted by yellowish light that was coming from a small crack under the nearby door. Voices were heard from behind it, so the boy froze and listened closely.

"Him again, huh? What now?" a feminine voice asked.

The boy instinctively tensed up.

He guessed  _who_ was the subject of this chat.

"He has got fever again," answered his nursemaid's voice. "Geez, I wish he'd gave me a break. I had plans to go out this evening, but I had to cancel everything because of that boy!"

"Bad luck having to deal with him. He's creepy and not childlike at all."

"I wonder if this is the reason why he was thrown out under that tree?"

"Who knows? Other children don't want to stay in the same room as him either."

 _The usual talking_...

The boy wasn't even upset. He had already grew some thin skin by the time of his fifth birthday. He wasn't bothered at all, instead, after having taken the glass of water, he left the ever-gloomy facility and went to the only place where he felt safe even in the middle of the relatively warm night.

"Hello... mom," the kid looked up at the huge tree in the mountains and smiled as he imagined that it responded to him in the voice of wind rustling among its gorgeous green leaves.

Despite the fact that it wasn't as warm on the ground as it would have been on top of bed the boy curled up next to the trunk and closed his eyes, listening to invisible crickets singing somewhere in the grass.

Yes, this was the very same tree that he was found under as an infant.

The very same tree that the woman who happened to carry him under her heart left him to die.

It might have sounded bizarre, but the boy cherished this tree more than anyone else in the world.

And he was deadly serious.

Because this tree at least _somehow_ acknowledged his presence.

Here, among its roots, he wasn't a living ghost, a spectre as he was among other humans.

And the most important, the tree was unable to call him ugly as it was with humans whenever he tried to catch their attention.

" _Oh, you again,_ " whenever he approached teachers to ask for any help, but only saw outright aversion in their eyes.

" _Eew! Go away, you ugly!_ " whenever he made timid attempts to fit in with other kids, but they wouldn't let him to join their play.

" _Haha, look! I knew this ugly couldn't do it!_ " giggles and mocking grins behind his back whenever he failed to perform any sort of activity.

Poor little _Spectre_ who had been surrounded by no-one but those whose judgement was based first and foremost on one's looks... god, just how much he hated those foolish humans.

_And how much he wanted to find a suitable mask which would suffice the demands of those who judged books by their covers._

***

"Revolver-sama."

The person in question threw an idle glance over his shoulder, but this alone was enough for Spectre's heart to flutter.

"I've received some rumours," and yet he as the assistant of the Knight's of Hanoi leader must have behaved appropriately and not let his cheeks grow redder than they should. "It's about the situation with SOL."

"Oh?" but it was hard to control this pounding inside his chest as this beautiful, masculine voice was like the most beautiful music and those irisless golden eyes were burning right through him.

"It's about that Ignis. It has escaped."

"Is that so? How interesting," it must have definitely been only Spectre's imagination, but he still somehow felt how actually intense was Revolver's gaze behind his ever-stoic facade. "So it's no longer in their possession?"

"Y-yes," Hanoi's leader's right-hand man couldn't help but stutter at that sly, taunting half-smile. "Unfortunately, its current whereabouts are yet unknown, but we keep gathering information."

"Good. We cannot let anyone else get that Ignis."

"Yes, Revolver-sama," Spectre bowed. "Well then, I'll go and continue monitoring LINK VRA..."

"Wait."

The stern, imperious tone made Hanoi's second-in-command shudder.

"Y-Yes, Revolver-sama?" Spectre's heart began thrashing inside his ribcage akin to a little captive bird and he couldn't find any courage to look up as he froze in his ninty-degrees bent state and saw nothing but a pair of high-heeled boots approaching him.

Spectre almost forgot how to breathe when his face was forcefully tilted upwards as Revolver grabbed his chin. As their eyes met the leader of Hanoi reached out for the bridge of Spectre's nose and a simple touch of his index finger erased the file that was the mask covering the upper half of his assistant's face.

"Revolver-sama!" he gasped as the glimmer in his eyes immediately gave away his nervousness.

"Hmm?" Revolver's face was as unreadable as it had always been with his avatar, but Spectre could feel tiny flames dancing, heating up his cheeks as his leader kept greedily staring down at him akin to a snake hypnotyzing a helpless rabbit.

"W-what are you doing?" Spectre bit his lips that suddenly felt awfully dry and humbly lowered his gaze, but Revolver jerked his chin up again, forcing their eyes to renew their contact.

"There was something missing because of that mask," came a weird response.

"What exactly?" Spectre blinked in confusion and then his heart stuck in his throat as Revolver leaned closer to his face and he could see himself reflecting in those golden eyes.

"Your face that is," Hanoi's leader purposefully burned his assistant's earlobe with his hot breath and then teasingly brushed his finger across flushed cheek.

"R-Revolver-sama..." all of a sudden Spectre felt some weird heat gathering up in the pit of his stomach.

"Your light blue eyes are so lovely," he gave him a cocky smirk. "Especially in this dim illumination of our base. The way they glimmer... I forbid you to hide them ever again."

"Revolver-sama," Spectre sighed and looked to the side. "Please, I don't think this is the right time to joke."

"Joke?" Revolver's flirty expression turned stern. "You dare not to believe your leader?"

"I-it's not that, it's just..."

"You."

Spectre's clumsy mewling was cut short as his face was once again jerked up and then... those "lovely" blue eyes went wide in shock.

A touch.

It was really just a simple touch as Revolver's lips (when did he remove his mask?) pressed against Spectre's own.

A simple touch, and yet Spectre could definitely taste the irritation within it as it had always been whenever Revolver encountered disobedience by any of other Hanoi members.

But still, _kissing_ was quite a unique display of annoyance, and it was _definitely_ unique to _Spectre_.

And Revolver didn't seem to be in a hurry to break such an intimate contact, vice versa, he only added more force into the kiss as he held onto Spectre's chin whereas his other arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

Soon enough Hanoi's second-in-command relaxed and, having closed his eyes, gave in into this sweet heat that flooded his head entirely and wrapped his arms around his leader's neck, pulling himself even closer to him, making sure that there were no gaps between their bodies.

This all-obliterating madness lasted until Spectre's mind went totally adrift and it was then when Revolver cruelly deprived him of his hot lips.

"Am I convincing enough now?" he smirked, admiring his handiwork of making his assistant's lips red and swollen, burning and visibly hungry for more.

"Huh..?" Spectre was still in his lightheaded, kiss-drunken stupor. "O-oh... Yes, Revolver-sama..."

"We're the Knights of Hanoi," he reminded. "And you're my most loyal Knight, remember?"

Of course Spectre remembered. 

He never forgot that he gave his very heart to this person, the one who saved his soul, snatched it away from the claws of loneliness so many years ago...

Sure, many people might have thought that their current co-existence was nothing more than an unhealthy attachment from Spectre's side as Revolver was the son of the man who kidnapped Spectre when he was a child and put him through such tortures as exhaustion, electrocution and starvation, and yet...

"You need no mask," Revolver gently caressed his cheek and the softness of his voice made Spectre's heart melt. "It's not your appearance that is important to me before anything else. You are my faithful Knight, the person who agreed to follow me right into the depths of this Hell. You are my very first confidant, don't you ever dare to forget that."

"It is impossible for me to do so," Spectre smiled timidly, nuzzling against his leader's palm. "It's just that I always thought it was better for spectres like myself to wear masks if they wanted to be seen at least in some capacity."

"Hoo?" Revolver's eyes went a little wide at such paradoxical statement. "I always thought masks were used in order to hide oneself."

And it was true from his point of view for if the leader of the Knights of Hanoi were discovered IRL, troubles would have been those of a cosmic scale. That was exactly the reason why "Revolver" and the man behind this virtual mask looked nothing alike... though Spectre had always fawned over the beauty of those two alter-egos.

Yes, everything about both virtual and real Revolver's looks was gorgeous and Spectre was never getting tired to adore him.

"You must not let your complexes take over you," the Hanoi leader said, strictly looking at his right-hand man. "Those things only drag you down."

"Heh," Spectre chuckled a bit bitterly. "I guess I'll be fine as long as I don't look in a mirror too often."

"You stubborn ass," Revolver sighed with a clear annoyance in his voice and roughly grabbed his assistant's face, forcing him to look right into his eyes. "You just keep asking for it."

Before Spectre could properly react his lips were once again attacked by Revolver's, and this time the kiss was even more savage, revealing all that ferocity, that fiery heart that the leader of Hanoi possessed.

No, _Revolver himself_ was a fire.

And Spectre akin to a helpless young stalk was burning alive in his passion.

"I don't give a damn even if you're not a Mr. Universe," Revolver said in a sexy husky voice after the lingering kiss which almost fully deprived them both of oxygen. "You're here by my side and I love you."

"Revolver-sama..." Spectre felt so many emotions blossoming within as tears accumulated in the corners of his eyes while his leader held onto his shoulders with a firm grip.

"And don't ever defy my judgement when I'm saying that I _do_ find something pretty about you."

"Hah," Spectre sobbed and clumsily rubbed his eye. "If you say that you like my eyes, so shall it be. I'll never hide them from you ever again."

"Good boy," Revolver brushed his fingers through his assistant's bangs in a cocky manner and then jerked his face upwards again. "I need you to always hold your head this high."

Spectre couldn't help laughing.

Yes, _this_ was the reason why he gave his soul to this man.

Only around this man he needed no mask.

Around this man Spectre could be himself and not face any shallow prejudices.

Revolver was the only person who actually took a closer look at him and managed to find something pretty.

Revolver was the only human being who ever gave him a genuinely warm smile.

Who would always listen if something bothered him.

Who would always give him a hug.

And even a kiss...

Hm? Oh, you might say it's not a big deal? It's such a trivial thing to hear that something about you _is_ pretty after all? Well, perhaps.

At least for a Spectre from Hanoi to be accepted and not having a need to wear a mask...

_This is what Happiness is, right?_

**Author's Note:**

> I know that many people hate Spectre, but I personally can't help but feel kinda sorry for him. I mean, can you imagine how messed up one's life has to be to call a tree their mother? Of course, I don't condone his cruel actions, but the way he's devoted to Revolver is just... aaaah! I really want to believe that he respects Spectre back just as much! Like, REvolver + SPECTre = RESPECT :3


End file.
